


More Than a Rose

by NathanieloftheSky



Category: Hamlet - Shakespeare, Rosencrantz & Guildenstern are Dead - Stoppard
Genre: After the events of Hamlet but modern and no one died, I seem to be following a theme of this, M/M, Reincarnation, there are random people added to this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-05 00:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14604711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NathanieloftheSky/pseuds/NathanieloftheSky
Summary: Gil believed reincarnation was a sham--something people made up to manipulate other people. Still, it was everywhere. His own friends claimed to be reincarnated, under the names of someone else. A lot happened for them to realize it, but he still felt normal, only gaining a friend and caution out of a tragedy. In an attempt to regain control of his life, he hosts a party but even that doesn't work out too well. Or does it?





	More Than a Rose

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, I have a headache and finals! It's been a while since Is started this, so I can't say for sure what this fic contains.  
> See bottom for continuation.

“‘When you die, something rather odd might happen. It’s rare, yet extremely powerful. What is it, you might ask? Well, that’s why I’m here. I’m here to tell you about a little something called _Reincarnation_ , and it doesn’t happen to just anyone. Reincarnation can change the way you perceive the world. Why? Because you’re not you. You’ve got someone else’s soul trapped inside of your body. Now there was one case of two souls sharing a body, but most likely, if you’ve been reincarnated, you are living life without no recollection of who you once were.’

‘You said it doesn’t just happen to anyone—sorry to interrupt—but I don’t understand. Who does it happen to and why?’

‘Well Charles, I will tell you. Reincarnation happens when the fates of many are intertwined with each other, the end resulting in either paradise or utter tragedy. These people either die with such purity—whether that’s innocence or hatred—they die with a noble cause or a terrifying will, or they die with a misunderstanding so deeply routed in the event that they can no longer redeem themselves.’

‘You lost me again. It sounds like it could happen to anyone and yet you said it can’t.’

‘There are many theories out there, but I firmly believe that someone who lives an ordinary life can be reincarnated. That just seems silly.’

‘You are the professional here, Dr. Karne.’

‘As I was saying, if you have been reincarnated, you won’t remember your past life. There is one way you can reclaim those memories: KNOWLEDGE. By knowing and believing you’ve been reincarnated, you can reclaim your memories.’

‘Oh, that goes along with what Dr. Planth said.’

‘Dr. Planth has a rather unfortunate theory where you can reclaim your memories by another reincarnation that is strongly tied with your own. If the bond is deep enough, you can look through the eyes and see the true self.’”

“Because the eyes are the windows to the soul.” Gil scoffed, tossing a piece of popcorn at the television as the men on screen repeated exactly as he said. He switched it off, but a high-pitched buzzing noise emulated from the greenish-black screen.

“Fuck.” He set the bowl on the coffee table and trudged over to the cable box only to find that it was already “off.” He yanked the cord, promptly unplugging the thing and sighed heavily.

“Everyone has a soulmate,” he said in a mocking voice, “Reincarnation is rare. Everyone has been reincarnated. Knowledge is money. Knowledge can save your soul. I only eat mustard on hotdogs. One burger, hold the ranch.”

“Maybe you should quit.” A voice laughed from the balcony. Hamlet opened the sliding glass door to Gil’s apartment as if it was a reoccurring phenomenon that all decent human beings did. It was not, but adventure and spontaneity were considered a part of Hamlet’s so-called charming personality.

“Maybe you should stop climbing through people’s windows. How did you even get down this time? Didn’t _Horatio_ stop you?” Gil sighed. That name felt like he had his mouth full of provolone. Only a month ago Gil was calling Horatio by the name of “Christopher” and Hamlet by the name of “Mark.” It was an awful event that almost got Gil and a few others killed, took Hamlet’s life, and made some kid calling himself “Fortinbras” rich as hell. The mere thought of it gave Gil hives, but it ended with Hamlet moving into Horatio’s apartment, giving up a well-known company to Fortinbras, and finding out that both Horatio and himself were reincarnated. In short: everything was a mess and Gil was still trying to piece things back together.

“I did, he’s just too crafty.” Horatio sighed, walking through the front door. “I am sorry. Hamlet stole your house key and I used it to let myself in.”

“Thanks, I was looking for that.” Gil smiled a bit, though he felt so worn down. A job at Denmark’s Finest (low budget, low quality burger joint), studying for a duel philosophy and psychology major (why both he will never remember), as well as a biology minor (because some people make horrible choices with the right intentions and no ability to know when to quit) all weigh down on him as an anvil does when held by a thread.

“But seriously, you need to quit.” Hamlet helped himself to some popcorn.

“I know, they’re just horrible, but I have to keep up with my payments. I’m lucky I got money out of almost dying.”

“I said I was sorry!” Hamlet squeaked.

“No, no, you were right. Clearly, I am swayed to much by the bribes of riches and the want to make sure my friend is alright, even if the reason I even came was by the tug of a leash from the asshole causing it all. But by all means, don’t send me off and start freaking the fuck out over every little thing. No, just kill me off and out of your perfect little world. Maybe you shouldn’t have tried to explain things to me and just let it die with the exchange of money.” Gil caught himself for a moment before relaxing into a solemn calmness. “I don’t know what to believe or what to keep in my memory, but you both are my friends. And if I hear you are in trouble in any way, and someone wants me to check up on you because they can’t for one reason or another, I would do it again. I thought I was helping and hell, if I get both money and reassurance that my friend can get help, I’d do it. But clearly you don’t hold me to that same regard.”

“Time will heal us. I think it’s better to just take a few steps back for now to get some breathing room. We won’t come over unless invited. Right Hamlet?”

“Right. Sorry for intruding.”

“I’m expecting visitors anyway.” Gil nodded and showed them out. Before Horatio stepped all the way through the doorframe, Gil stopped him. “I just hope Time heals us _right_.”

“Is Time ever wrong, or are we?” Horatio stepped through the door. Gil let it slam and headed for the kitchen. He only got halfway through pouring the last bag of chips when a knock came at the door.

In streamed about eleven or so people, about half in semi-formal clothes, the rest in university spirit well. A girl handed him a bouquet of cream and peach roses.

“For inviting me and being so sweet,” she said, then held out a bright orange rose. “And this is for how excited I am!”

“Wow Natalie, these are amazing! You really did this yourself?” Gil exclaimed. “I’ll go put these in a vase.”

“No, I’ve got it covered. It looks like you’ve got things under control and I want an excuse to snoop.” She laughed and headed into the kitchen, returning later on to place a thin blue vase on the bookshelf, the orange rose almost emulating light through the dark side of the room.

“Do you have a bathroom?” A man who looked similar to Natalie tapped Gil’s shoulder.

“No, we have to use a hole in the balcony.” A taller man laughed.

“Third door on the right.”

“Isn’t it always?” The man sighed and walked off.

“Chrys, that’s not funny.” Gil frowned, only to form a smile. “I missed a very good opportunity to blackmail Nick.”

“Gabriella needs you.” Another attendee approached Gil. They looked over his shoulder and scowled. “How are you?”

“Chrysanthos—named for my golden smile,” Chrys bowed, “Also my mother’s love for phytochemistry. Just Chrys will do.”

“I’m Vered. Some people call me Varda. It means rose.”

“Nice to meet you!” Chrys certainly had a golden smile in Gil’s eyes. He practically lit up at the sight of it, but Vered had other plans.

“Seriously, we’ve got to go help them.” They grabbed his hand and pulled him down the hallway, not before Gil caught sight of Gabriella in the kitchen, giggling at Natalie’s every word.

“We’re going the wrong way.” He stated as he was pulled into his bedroom.

“I know, I just wanted an excuse to talk to you.”

“Vered, you can always talk to me. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, but this is more private.”

“What are you talking about?” Gil began to feel his skin crawl.

“So, like two things. One, I don’t like that Chrystal guy. He just feels so out of place and honestly? I think he needs to find a different friend group. He’s so weird and I don’t trust him—”

“First of all, his name is Chrysanthos. Second of all, this is my party and we’ve been through a lot together, almost as much as the two of us. I’m not kicking him out just because you don’t like him. Why, even?”

“Well, he flirts with you all the time and can suddenly freak out at the drop of a hat. I mean, one minute he’s bubbly and the next he’s shaking, staring at a dog or some shit.”

“I’m going to ignore that, and have you back up. Did you say _flirting_? He’s not _flirting_ with me. We do not _flirt_. And even if he was, why do you care. You don’t like him.” Gil’s face grew red. He took a few steps back.  
“No, I like you! AH shit.”  
“What about that guy you were talking about all last month?” He furrowed his brows.

“I made him up to get close to you! I’m in love with you and I think we are _soulmates_!”

“Tsk, you are a nightmare. Listen, why don’t you just leave, get some fresh air, and we can meet back up another time. As _friends_.”

“Fine.” They said with a huff, stepping out of the room. For a moment, their attention turned away and then they faced him once more. “By the way, your little _friend_ is having another fit.”

With that, they were out the door.

Gil ran into the room. The time passed by so quickly, leaving most of the people leaving to go home. Natalie, Gabriella, and Nick were left, surrounding Chrysanthos. He was curled up on the couch, tears streaming down his cheek, his hands covering the back of his neck and part of his head.

“What happened?” Gil swallowed hard and knelt down next to Chrys, turning towards Natalie in the process.

“You know those tagalongs Vered invited? Distractions. A few trapped us in the kitchen and out of sight while the others began to really freak him out. I don’t know what they said to him.”

“I can handle this. Why don’t you all go home and get some rest. I’m sorry the party was such a bust, but I know who the problem is and I am not inviting them back. Trust me.”

“Are you sure?” Gabriella’s face looked pained.

“Yeah. It’s better if there’s less people anyways.”

“Okay, goodnight Gil. Keep us updated.” Nick sighed, shuffling the others out the door.

Gil turned back towards Chrys and whispered, “you’re safe here. I’m here. Everyone’s gone. It’s just you and me.”

Chrys lifted his head and whispered back, “But what if it happens again? They were threatening me, saying that they’d hire people to come after me like…and the dogs…”

“I bet they’re like most dogs: all bark and no bite. They probably eat their own shit too.”

Chrys laughed a little. “I’m sorry for freaking out. I don’t know what got over me. It’s pathetic. I don’t know how you are always so calm.”

“I don’t,” Gil laughed, “I really don’t. I just, explode. I push people aside. But even so, we can get through this together.” He reached over and wiped a tear away, suddenly remembering Vered’s words and freezing up.

“What’s wrong?” Chrys asked, now fully emerged from his cocoon.

“I, uh, it’s nothing.” Gil suddenly found it hard to swallow.

“Come sit up here,” Chrys patted the cushion and Gil sat down next to him. He laid his head onto Gil’s shoulder and wiped a tear that escaped. “Come on, what’s bothering you?”  
“Am I dense?”

“You float.”

“No, I mean—”

Chrys laughed, “A little, but it’s endearing and I’m kinda dense too.”

“Good, I mean—”

Another bright laugh escaped Chrysanthos and Gil felt his heart flutter. “Why do you ask?”

“It was just something Vered said.”

“They’re a used tissue, not even the thorns of a rose.”

“That sounded bitter,” Gil laughed a little.

“I am. A rose, please, that name is so unfitting of such a horrible person.”

“I don’t think many names fit people.”

“Did you know,” Chrys began, “my mother and I both hate chrysanthemums? They’re so busy and small. There’s nothing golden about me. In fact, I don’t think your name fits you well either?”

“It means happiness or something.”

“No, see, it fits but like, it’s just not poetic enough. You’re like this bright light that dances in the darkness of society. You show others the way when you yourself are lost. You are…”

“What’s wrong, why are you making that face?” The two sat up, staring at each other deeply.

“You are someone I know as well as myself…”

“Chrys?”

Chrys quickly pulled Gil closer, “Look into my eyes. I thought they were crazy, but…”

“Oh no, not you too.”  
“Just look.”  
Gil looked deeply into Chrys’ brown eyes, slowly moving closer until he could see his own eyes in the reflection. They were diluted into a dark brown, but they began to grow smaller and smaller until something short of a movie began to play through the eyes of Chrys. He was wearing funny clothing and acting weird, the face not quite his own and yet… It was him, without a doubt. He began to see other people too, one that resembled Hamlet, another Horatio. Nevertheless, he was always there in view, smiling at himself—no, at Chrys. Gil was looking through the eyes of Chrys’ soul. Soon, his expression began to wear, and people began to distance themselves and speak in hushed whispers (not that Gil could hear them). The last thing he saw before everything when normal was his own two eyes, watching Chrys as they both slipped away into death.

“Guildenstern.” Chrys let out a laugh, almost a cry, “I thought I’d never see you again. Guildenstern!”

“Rose-Rosencrantz!” Gil—no, Guildenstern—gently held Rosencrantz’s face, pressing their foreheads together, and laughed brighter than he had the day the two first met each other.

“It appears we’ve got a second chance,” Guildenstern continued, “and I want to give you more than I was ever able.”

“Just kiss me, you fool.” Rosencrantz laughed and leaned in, pressing their lips together in such sweet bliss that Guildenstern lost all train of thought.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I left out a lot of stuff near the end.  
> I'm always available for comments, questions, and concerns, so don't be shy. I will continue anything by request--it's no problem at all. I love doing this stuff.


End file.
